Vengeance:

5

"That was real brave, man." An officer said as he approached a startled Sam. He handed him a coffee and Sam smiled; "Thank you." The officer nodded and walked off. A taller man approached, his shoulders were broad and his hair dark. His eyes shined a beautifully sky blue; "Sam, right?" He asked and Sam nodded; "And you are?" The officer smiled and replied; "I'm Detective Bronson. I must say, what you did was amazingly brave and took a lot of gut. Even though you killed two men, you're brave." Sam went red and started to worry; "Oh god I'm...I'm not under arrest, am I?" Bronson shook his head and smiled; "Don't worry. You're safe. Just don't kill anyone again." He winked and walked off. Sam was so relieved he smiled and began to breath again. Kate looked traumatised as she came over. But not just that, she was confused. She sat beside him and she stared into the gloomy sky; "Thank you." She said, looking at him. He smiled and looked back at her; "No problem." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. He blushed and she walked off.

The night couldn't have been worse. Cold. Dark. Foggy. Wet. And Sam had no where to go, well apart from home. He had no one to love him. No one to care. So he'd just spend his nights at the pub or cinema. But now he was on his way home. Drunk, cold, miserable, wet and lonely. His house was small and at the top of a block of apartments. He made his way inside and smiled as the slight warmth hit his face. His legs didn't want to endure the effort of walking up six sets of stairs but he tried. Fifteen minutes later, he had reached his door and the key slid into the lock and turned just as gracefully. His house was messy and unkempt, but today, it looked ten times worse. The wallpaper was torn and the pictures smashed and torn from the wall. The doors were splintered and plates and cups were shattered on the floor. He wandered into the living room and saw the armchair, slightly rocking too and fro. Occupying it was a skinny man. He didn't recognise the man, possibly the alcohol he had drunk so much of. He flicked on the light and the man's face became visible. A thick beard was on his chin and his skin pale. He was skinny and average height. Just a little taller than Sam himself. His eyes were brown and he was bald. His voice was scratchy and deep; "You go behind my back and now you kill one of the men robbing that bank?" He staggered over to the sofa opposite the chair and he nodded. His heart began to thump against his ribs as he spoke; "My co-worker was in trouble. Please, don't do this." The guy stood up and replied; "He was my cousin. His name was Henry Lake. He was a good man till he met that lanky bastard." Sam arched his eyebrow in confusement. The tall man reached into his pocket and his hand brought out an army knife. Different utensils were on the device and all were incredibly shiny. He flicked out the knife and walked over to Sam; "I'ma make this quick." He whispered as he leant close and plunged the knife into Sam's ribs.